\u201cSlow and steady wins the race,\u201d Aesop wrote. So often had Melampus heard the words quoted in reference to himself that he\u2019d adopted them as his personal motto. In the first weeks of his journey, he seemed, once again, to be proving the wisdom behind them. <\/p>\n
The delightful bouquet beckoned due south; after a night of stumbling down private roads of varying qualities, Melampus found himself on a vast via publica<\/i> aimed in that very direction. He avoided the gravel surface \u2014 he had no wish to be mashed under a quadrig<\/i> driven by some idiot who\u2019d modeled himself on Phaeton. But he found the shoulder easy enough to navigate. True, he had occasionally to brave a patch of thistles that planted themselves deep enough in his flesh to make him howl in frustration; but he always found a cool stream in which to wash them out. Best of all, human travelers had turned his path into a dumping-ground for their chicken bones and melon rinds. <\/p>\n
All along, the scent \u2014 the incomparable perfume \u2014 kept Melampus in thrall. It was a positive force, a personality as dominating as any master\u2019s or pack leader\u2019s. Its presence blinded Melampus to the traders and pilgrims and soldiers, the oxen, the horses and donkeys and camels, the entire carnival of the road. Like a hand on a leash, it tugged him onward, along the breezy coast, growing stronger ever day.<\/p>\n
One morning, just south of Tyre, Melampus rose with the sun. With a yawn and a stretch and a stifled groan, he struggled to his feet. In that moment, his nose began twitching like a lanced hare. It detected something, a change so enormous, it took half a minute for Melampus\u2019 brain to register. The scent \u2014 the melange of oil and incense and sweet human milk \u2014 was gone. No, it wasn\u2019t gone, but it had grown faint. In its place was a smell just as overwhelming but much more familiar. It was the smell of death.<\/p>\n
Occasionally, by happy accident, Melampus\u2019 hunting party had managed to corner an entire herd of deer or pack of boar. During the killing, blood had sprayed from the wounds in gouts; during the butchering, it had splashed from the carcasses in waves. Its odor lingered in the air for days afterward, and Melampus found it pleasant on the whole. But what he smelled now was different. It was the smell of carcasses left to rot in the sun, the smell of gassy bloat and swarming maggots. Melampus remembered it from the time a plague had struck down his master\u2019s cattle, but this was worse still. It was death and neglect on a scale that beggared Melampus\u2019 imagination. <\/p>\n
Melampus retched. All the lovely bread and fatback thrown him the previous night by friendly caravaners came up right on the grass. It was all too much for him to bear. Not only was his fragrant inspiration deserting him in a strange land, apparently one wracked by war or pestilence, but now his stomach was empty again. His composure and modesty gone, Melampus sank onto his haunches and began to wail.<\/p>\n
Melampus went on wailing till his lungs and larynx ached. He wailed until some late-rising glass merchants who\u2019d camped nearby told him to shut it and threatened to give him something worth crying about if he kept it up. For all Melampus cared, they could have brained him. The connection he\u2019d felt to the wonderful scent had verged on ecstasy; it had enlarged him, propelled him beyond the limits of his own feeble consciousness. With the scent fading fast, he was thrown back on himself. As long as he could cry out for it, try to call it back, he would not be completely desolate.<\/p>\n
But presently, Melampus\u2019 ears picked up a bark other than his own. It was sharp and staccato but solicitous. Realizing suddenly that his eyes were closed, he opened them and beheld before him a bitch. Short-haired and brindle-coated, she was somewhat larger than he. Judging by her brief snout and wide forehead, he guessed her sire or dam had been one of those hulking guard dogs kept by the army. But her wide, unblinking eyes were tender.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, Melampus felt embarassed for carrying on so. Fighting the urge to tuck his tail between his legs and hide, he stood as tall as he could. The bitch advanced a couple of steps. \u201cAre you okay?\u201d She asked.<\/p>\n
Mustering all his willpower, Melampus wagged his tail. \u201cIt\u2019s a long story,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
She drew near him and introduced herself: her name was Acantha. Melampus smelled her blood. When they sniffed each other, he saw the swelling. \u201cTell me later,\u201d Acantha said.<\/p>\n
After they uncoupled themselves, Melampus did tell his story. Acantha explained the death smell. \u201cIt\u2019s coming from the Galilee, which my caravan just left. The grand pooh-bah decided to kill all the newborns. Humans aren\u2019t like us \u2014 they don\u2019t just let people bag up their puppies and drown them. Some of the Galileans decided to show their teeth, and generally, got spitted on swords for their troubles. Now you\u2019ve got villages in ruins and people walking around glassy-eyed while their dead go unburied. Not fun unless you\u2019ve a taste for carrion.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you also happen to smell\u2026\u201d Melampus began, but left the sentence unfinished.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sweet balsam and breast milk thing you told me about? Yeah, I smelled it, the whole time we were down there. It was nice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you\u2026that is, you didn\u2019t\u2026?\u201d Melampus was sputtering, a habit he despised.<\/p>\n
\u201cGo chasing after it? No, Melampus, I didn\u2019t.\u201d Acantha laughed. \u201cLook, I\u2019ve led the nomad life since I was out of the whelping box. I\u2019ve been from Carthage to Capadocia, and I\u2019ve smelled some very interesting things. But most of them turned out, on close inspection, to be pretty mundane \u2014 a nice gift for a society lady, a nice profit for a parfumier. All in all, I\u2019d have to say nothing\u2019s quite so exalted as steady work and a warm, dry bed.\u201d <\/p>\n
Melampus shut his mouth, afraid he\u2019d start waiting again if he opened it.<\/p>\n
Acantha pressed her cold nose against Melampus\u2019 ear; he flinched. \u201cPlease don\u2019t think I\u2019m talking down to you,\u201d she said. \u201cI love that you\u2019re a dreamer. Look at it this way \u2014 you followed this marvelous smell, and it led you to me. Maybe that\u2019s what it was there for.\u201d With her meaty forepaws, she pinned him playfully. \u201cCome on, let\u2019s be a pack of two. My master\u2019ll love you.\u201d<\/p>\n
With a yelp, Melampus freed himself. Sniffing at the breeze, he caught his guiding scent. It was faint, but it was there \u2014 still to the south, and perhaps a bit to the west. He glanced at Acantha. Her tail was wagging, her eyes pleading. He searched for words to justify himself, but they fled him like frogs. Instead, his voice quivering, he screamed, \u201cI don\u2019t like brindles!\u201d and bolted, wishing his ears could bear him aloft like Pegasus\u2019 wings.<\/p>\n
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Okay, it looks like I won\u2019t finish this thing till tomorrow. Sorry, gang. <\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cSlow and steady wins the race,\u201d Aesop wrote. So often had Melampus heard the words quoted in reference to himself that he\u2019d adopted them as his personal motto. In the first weeks of his journey, he seemed, once again, to be proving the wisdom behind them. The delightful bouquet beckoned due south; after a night […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":192,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[509,49,252],"class_list":["post-6533","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-animals","tag-catholicism","tag-christmas"],"yoast_head":"\n